


The Three Pound Eight Ounce Warrior

by Teresa_C



Series: Post-Ahriman [1]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-15
Updated: 2009-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:31:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teresa_C/pseuds/Teresa_C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A determined, scrappy kitten attaches herself to Methos as he is tempted by Ahriman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Three Pound Eight Ounce Warrior

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers: The concept and characters of Highlander:The Series belong to Davis-Panzer Productions, Rysher, and/or Gaumont. If it makes any difference, I make no money from this.
> 
> Dedicated to my cat, Nike, the inspiration for the OFC. Any resemblance to other cats or kittens, living or dead, is probably not coincidental, but likely a result of certain universal characteristics of the tribe.
> 
> This story, while not part of a series, exactly, is one of four stories I have written set during the time Duncan MacLeod was missing before the final battle with Ahriman. The story that is sort of a sequel to this one is called Get Well Soon. The other two stories are sidebar stories, one-shots from Duncan's POV. They are Desert Mirage and Empire of Dirt.
> 
> Warnings: Well, cuteness, of course, but it gets better. Really.

The kitten was cold. She hated being cold. She was damp, and she hated that, too. She was hungry; she was frightened, but most of all, she was lonely. Gone was the comfort and warmth of mother and milk and furry, squirming siblings. She squatted, for a moment, between a building and a bush, and let herself remember. Then she returned to cold reality, put her early life behind her and formed a plan. Ancient instincts awoke, telling her to hide and to hunt. She listened to her instincts, understanding their message, but she chose to adapt it. Her plan would be based on experience – all the experience of four months of life. She would hunt, but she would hunt a human.

Not just any human would do. She crouched nervously atop a low wall, watching a major human thoroughfare. She smelled the traces of two cats who had recently laid claim to this portion of wall, but she did not heed the aromatic warning. She needed this vantage. Which human, which human? She ignored the growls of her stomach. She would not make the decision in desperation.

It became dark and colder. She had licked most of her fur dry, but she couldn’t keep her paws warm. With the dusk, she somehow knew, came an increased danger from the local cats. Fewer humans were passing by. Would the right one never come?

Then she saw him. He came out of a building and turned his back to her to do something with the door. Tall and thin, with a prominent nose and short fur on his head, she also sensed he was strong and gentle. She knew him to be kin. To her, he was milk and food and warmth and purring tummy. Her tail twitched. He was now prey.

He started to walk away. She leaped from the wall to land again in cold slush, and darted into the street. She was not unaware of the danger of the whizzing cars, but she dared not lose the right human now that she had found him.

The crossing was harrowing. Her own speed saved her from being crushed by the first car, but that shot her into the path of the second. The kitten flattened herself to the ground while she assessed the path of the squealing, swerving machine bearing down on her. Then she darted to the sidewalk and raced after the man, her heart beating wildly. Loud sounds hurt her flattened ears.

The man stopped and turned, his long coat swirling around his legs. The kitten stopped. Cold, hungry, and wet, she knew this was her chance. She lifted her tail and tipped her head back and yowled. This had always worked with her mother. C’mon, c’mon. Pick me up; hold me, warm me, feed me. She couldn’t see his hands, but she imagined them being large and warm.

The coat swirled again. The man was walking away! Outrage warmed her, followed by determination. Her prey would not escape. She dashed ahead of him and swerved into his ankle.

The man shifted his weight and stepped effortlessly over her. But he did stop. The kitten tipped her head back to look up at his height. She mewed again, demanding.

“Careful there, little one,” he said with a rumbling low voice, which sounded close enough to a purr, for her. But then he walked away again.

She repeated the move, this time angling more sharply in front of him. Again he avoided her gracefully. This would not do. Distasteful as it was, she plopped down in the slush in front of him, and rolled, belly up.

“Now you’re all wet,” he sympathized. He reached down to pick up her up. She had been right about his hands. They were large, warm, and dry. Unable to manage a purr, the kitten wriggled happily in his grasp. Now snuggle me up to you and take me where the food is.

“All right, I’ll let you go.”

Nooo! He set her in the shelter of a doorway, and strode away. The kitten was beginning to worry that her chosen human was not too bright. Well, that just meant that he needed her. She chased after him.

She followed him for a long ways. Hungry and tired, she had to fight the temptation to rest and lose him. Finally he came to a door.

The kitten knew about doors. They were bad things. They isolated her from where she wanted to be, or from whom she wanted to be with. She gathered her strength and sprinted to catch him. She leaped on him from behind and managed to catch his coat with her claws. She clung, swinging, and considered her chances of climbing up his back. But before she could decide, the man reacted. He spun and stepped, slamming her against the wall just inside the door. The impact shuddered through the kitten’s frame, hurting everywhere at once. Stunned, she still clung to the coat.

“What the ...?”

She was dimly aware of the man shifting the coat, swinging her around to his front. Gasping in a breath, she let out a cry which should have been a reprimand, but came out as a whimper.

“Oh!” he rumbled. “It’s you!” Strong, the kitten’s fragmented thoughts limped back to observe. Not smart, but very strong.

His warm hands wrapped around her again, and he tried to disengage her from the cloth of his coat.

“Let go. Let go.”

Her claws came free without her consent. She still hurt.

“You are a tenacious little thing.”

This time the man held her close against his body, in the corner of his arm. His other hand closed the door, and then he carried her into a flat, talking. The kitten didn’t understand the words, but she understood the tone of apology. Still in some physical shock, she curled slightly to protect her belly.

The man set her gently on a chair and removed his coat. The kitten had recovered enough to notice that she was warmer. She saw the man draw something very long and hard out of his coat and set it by the door. Suddenly wary, she remained very still. But when the man started toward the places which the kitten recognized as likely to have food, she abandoned caution, jumped to the floor and followed his feet closely. She yowled.

“Yes, I know. Give me a minute.”

He opened the refrigerator, and food smells assailed her. She climbed in, only to be plucked back out.

“You don’t want to get caught in there.”

He set her on the floor, and she immediately climbed back in the refrigerator.

“Hey! Didn’t I explain this to you?”

She was removed again, and he shut the door. She yowled. Food, now!

“I know, I know.”

He took an interminable amount of time doing something on the counter. She could smell fish. She judged the counter to be too high to jump to. What if he forgot her?! She reminded herself that he was not very bright. She cried again, and kept crying. For good measure, she wove between his legs. Finally he placed a portion of a fish and milk in a saucer on the floor. Food! Food!

The man watched while she ate. She peeled the succulent portions of the fish away from the bones with her claws and teeth. She may have been starving, but she still preferred her food properly prepared.

"You’re supposed to eat it, not autopsy it," the man said. The kitten paid no attention to him. She dedicated herself to eating every last morsel of the fish.

"If you are done with your forensic examination, Doctor …" The man picked up the plate as the kitten turned to the milk. When she finally looked up again, licking milk from her whiskers, the man had moved into the other room.

With hunger, cold, and thirst banished to memory, she was still damp and lonely. She intended to solve both at the same time.

She found him sitting – a perfect position for her purposes, but his lap was too high for an easy leap, so she climbed.

“Ow!”

Her world became briefly chaotic as his leg kicked, she was grabbed, and something wet poured on her. She did achieve his lap, however, just not in the way she had intended. And she was wet with something which wasn’t water. Too fatigued to decide which she wanted to deal with first, she alternately purred, mewed protest, licked her fur, and rolled in his lap. He was forced to move a magazine out from under her, and he set a glass down on an end table.

“Now, look ...”

He tried to pet her, but she was too excited to stay still. And the liquid she was licking off her fur had a strange and distracting taste. Some of it rubbed off on his clothes as she rolled, so she sniffed and licked it there. The glass on the side table held more of it, so she perched on the chair and sniffed toward the glass. The man pulled her back onto his lap.

“I am not sharing my beer. Get your own.”

She tried again to taste his drink. Again, he pulled her back. She began furiously licking it off her fur, and waited for an opportunity.

“What am I going to do with you? I can’t keep a kitten.”

The kitten liked his purring voice; she wanted to be closer to it. She climbed up his chest and tried to nestle against his throat. She needed her claws to stay in place. For some reason, he plucked her away from his neck.

“Now listen. I am not naming you or anything. You can’t stay here.”

Suddenly very sleepy, the kitten yawned and curled into his warm lap. She could explore her new home later.

* * *

He named her Scully. She learned the sound of the name, and knew when to pay attention to it and when to ignore it. She named him Big Nose, and she devoted herself to taking care of him.

It was very important that she wake him on time in the morning, by sitting on his chest and nipping at his nose. She tried to sample his food for him, but he was very resistant to that. She did, however, train him to share his beer.

She also felt it was necessary that she sound the alarm whenever intruders approached his front door. He didn’t hear them as well as she did, so she was diligent about climbing the curtains and announcing the impending intrusion. Frequently he answered the door after plucking her from the drapes, and he would hold her while she struggled and hissed at whomever it was who was taking his attention away from her.

Sometimes Big Nose would go away and leave her alone for years. Well, for hours, really, but it seemed like years. When he returned she would greet him and chastise him, and drink his beer. Then all would be well.

One night, he returned very late, and ignored all her attempts to love up to him. It was very frustrating. She had been bored and lonely all day, and now he would hardly pet her. She jumped in the open suitcase on his bed, trying to make him notice her.

"Get out of there, Scully." He plucked her out of the suitcase and tossed her to the floor. Well! This was a fine way to treat the world’s most wonderful kitten!

She studied her human. Studying him was one of her favorite things to do. He was moving very hurriedly, back and forth to the bed, putting clothes in the suitcase. Scully finally noticed that he smelled of fear. What threat could have frightened her human? Whatever it was, she’d take it on!

She stalked out of the room to survey her territory. She pounced on a throw rug, and clawed it into submission. She ripped the toilet paper, which was dangling down in a threatening manner. She scaled the drapes, defeated the sofa cushions, and pulled all the placemats off the table before returning to the bedroom to find an entire basket of clean laundry just taunting her. She leaped and tipped, and was buried in clothes.

"Scully!" Somehow Big Nose always noticed when she did embarrassing things. He extracted her from beneath the laundry. I meant to do that. Really!

He set her on the bed and spoke to her. His tone was gentler, now, not distant and distracted as it had been.

"Scully, I’m leaving you for a while. Mme. Lebeau will take care of you. If anything happens to me, she has promised to find you a good home." He still seemed upset. She couldn’t find the threat, so she tried to comfort him with purring.

He turned away, doing something at the dresser. "My friend is in trouble, Scully. I don’t know how to find him or how to help him." He paused, staring at nothing. If he was so interested in the dresser, then Scully needed to be on the dresser. She’d never managed its height before, but he had left one of the drawers open, and if she could just make the jump …

Success! She crowed her victory at him. He was irritatingly unimpressed. He merely looked at her, his tone returning to distraction. "He’s done something … something awful." She paraded along the narrow way, standing directly in front of him. Movement caught Scully’s eye and she turned to see another cat! And not a tail’s length from her, right on the dresser! She jumped and hissed, and so did the other cat. What in the world?

Before she could figure it out, Big Nose picked her up, still hissing, and carried her out of the room. "I’m sure it was an accident. It has to have been an accident." He deposited her on the couch. She was torn between staying with him and returning to challenge that other cat. But it had no smell… Something was wrong.

In fact, she knew, there was a great Wrongness approaching. Scully was suddenly very afraid.

Big Nose looked at the door as if he’d heard something. Since when did he sense someone approaching the door before she did? Scully had heard no one, but she knew a terror she’d never experienced before. She managed one howl of warning before her body took her, without her volition, under the sofa and as far to the back as she could cower.

"But how do you behead someone by accident?"

* * *

As Scully shook with mindless fear, she heard the knock, and, to her increased horror, she heard Big Nose draw his sword and open the door. Nooo!

Destruction and death entered the flat. Scully pressed her ears back and her body as flat to the floor as she possibly could. She kept her eyes shut, and waited for the End of Everything. When it didn’t come, she carefully opened her eyes. She heard voices, and one of them was her human’s. Stupid! Didn’t his mother teach him not to talk to demons? Hers certainly had.

"Duncan, you don’t know what you’re asking."

"Yes, I do. I’m not asking, Methos; I’m begging you. Please. I can’t live like this."

It was her job to take care of him. She wasn’t sure how to take on a demon, and first she would have to conquer the numbing fear that coursed through her. Slowly, she slid forward, still on her belly, to where she could just see out from under the sofa.

It looked like a man; a big man. A man with long dark fur on his head, badly groomed. It wore dirty and torn clothes and held a glove in one hand. Her human behaved toward it as he did toward other humans. But it wasn't human!

"Duncan, you’re exhausted. Sit down, before you fall down. Let me call Joe. He’s sick about this. We … we all are."

"No!" the man-demon bellowed. "Don’t you understand?! I’m a threat! To Joe, to you, to everyone! When I took a dark Quickening, you were ready to take my head to stop me. You’ve got to do it now!"

Well at least the End of Everything didn’t seem to be hurting her human, though she could sense great distress in Big Nose. What could she do?

"No."

Destruction lowered itself to its knees, and gripped the glove before it with both hands. It looked up at Big Nose with water running down its face. It spoke softly this time.

"It’s not an execution; it’s not murder. Methos, it’s the coup de gras. Please. I can find any immortal to take my head, but I want it to be you, my friend. I know I can count on you."

"What, right now? Right here? You’re ready to die, just like that? You’re quitting? You disappoint me, Duncan. I didn’t think you were such a quitter."

"Not now. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, at … sunset. I’ll need a day to get some things in order. Come to the barge. My quickening will destroy it. You can set it on fire as my bier. Say you’ll do this for me, Methos. Don’t let me kill again. It’s the death of everything I’ve ever stood for. Say you’ll come."

"Duncan, I …"

"Promise me you’ll come to me tomorrow at sunset. Give me your word."

"I … will … come."

"Good." The creature stood. It clasped Big Nose’s elbow, embracing his forearm. Scully couldn’t stifle the low growl which formed in her throat at the sight of the demon-man touching her beloved human. No one seemed to hear her.

"Whatever I do or say tomorrow, remember I truly want this. I know you won’t fail me this time."

The Thing left. Scully and Big Nose were alone. Big Nose stood still, staring at the door. Scully crept out from under the sofa and trembled, torn by conflicting urges. Her fury won out and she scampered to the door the Thing had used, and peed on it. And stay out!

Big Nose sank onto a chair, and Scully was on him in a second, crying. He made half-hearted attempts to pet her as she paced in his lap, but his attention wasn’t really on her.

"He wants to die. Scully, he wants to die. He’s unarmed. Someone will kill him. I’ve got to do something." He paused. "Did you just piss on the door? You're acting very strangely."

Scully wriggled between him and the arm of the chair, trying to hide from everything. She cried continually, wishing he would understand. He dug her out.

"He scared you, didn’t he, little girl. He’s gone now. It’s not like you to be afraid of anything. But maybe you should be."

Scully spotted the glove It had brought into her house. It had left it behind, on the end table. Her fear turned to fury. She leaped on the glove and batted it to the floor. Now, how could she get it out of her house, too? She considered peeing on it.

Big Nose moved her aside, and took the glove. "Maybe you should be! Scully …" He stood abruptly, staring at it. " … this is the wrong glove!"

* * *

Bedtime came and went, but Big Nose didn't go to bed. He emptied the suitcase, and returned it to beneath the bed. He sat at the computer box for a very long time.

Usually he was very tolerant of her when she walked on his keyboard or lay down on his mouse, but tonight he moved her aside repeatedly, and not always gently.

"Sorry, little one, but I’ve got to find something which could help." He munched absently on a pretzel from a bag at his side. "There isn't a Zoroastrian-demons dot com. What a surprise."

Miffed, she watched him from the bed.

She dozed, and dreamed of the other cat on the dresser. But in her dream it had red, glowing eyes, in addition to no smell. She woke, wary.

Her human was still at it. She craved his attention desperately. She cried the "Mother-come-here" cry. No response. She stood and stretched, and decided to try the dresser again. He’d pay attention to her if she started knocking things off of it, she guessed. And that other cat might be up there.

Before she could try the jump, the Wrongness returned. Not again! She howled and dived beneath the bed, colliding with the suitcase. Determined to fight this Thing, this time, she peered out from under the bedspread.

A red mist drifted down from the ceiling. Her human stood, watching it. Destruction appeared out of the mist, looking the same as it had before, except now it had red, glowing eyes. All thought of challenging it shivered out of her.

"I’ll be damned," her human breathed.

"Of course you will."

Big Nose faced the Thing, the sword in his hand. Scully sensed his indecision – torn between the instinct to run, and a powerful curiosity. It was a feeling she knew well. If he’d had a tail, it would have twitched.

"You … are a demon," he breathed.

"And you are a pathetic excuse for an immortal." Its voice no longer sounded normal. It had a strange echo to it.

"What … are you doing here? I’m not the Champion."

"You’re going to kill him."

"That was you, earlier. I’ll be damned."

"You’re going to take his head."

"You tried to trick me. I’m curious – how did you expect to get him to stand still while I beheaded him?"

"I will make you invincible."

Her human did not respond to that.

"That’s right, Methos. I can make you unbeatable. Unstoppable. You can be the final survivor. The One. You know no ordinary moral code can forbid you to kill immortals. That Law is older than Time. There Can Be Only One. How many times have you feared the outcome of a Challenge? Feared to face the void of a death from which there is no returning? Never again. Take the head of the Highlander, and then all the others will fall before you. You need never be afraid again."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then your next Challenge will be your last. Think about it."

There was silence in the room. Scully’s heartbeat sounded very loud in her ears. When her human spoke, his voice sounded very ordinary, but she could smell his fear. She really wished he would stop talking to the demon!

"Every game has its rules. What are your rules, demon? You can’t kill the Champion, yourself, and I don’t think you can arrange my death. Threats are coercion. What you need is willing betrayal. I won’t do it."

"Brave words from such a coward. Don’t worry, little man; I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to buy you."

Scully sensed her human growing more confident. The smell of fear was fading.

"Well, you’ll have to do better than that. I suppose the Prize is an obvious bribe for an immortal. The Prize doesn’t mean fuck all to me, and you’d know that if you were truly omniscient. So, I take it, there are things you don’t know."

Scully shivered as the man-demon changed form before her eyes. It also changed location. Big Nose whirled to the doorway, raising the sword. Another long-haired man stood there, with strange markings on his face, and very heavy looking clothing latched on his body.

"Bright boy. You’ve got me all figured out. Yes, oh wise one, you have seen all my secrets. But then, you always were the clever one."

Big Nose gripped his sword with both hands. His face seemed to turn whiter.

"I don’t fucking believe this," he said.

"Is that any way to greet your brother?"

* * *

"What game is this? We both know Kronos is dead. What’s the point of this?" Her human’s voice was more high-pitched than usual.

"Then put down your sword. What are you afraid of?"

Big Nose didn’t move. The demon-thing lounged on the bed, its booted ankles within Scully’s reach. Not that she could bring herself to do anything about it. Her human kept the blade of the sword between himself and the End of Everything.

"You’ll notice, brother, that I offered to make you the last immortal. I didn’t say anything about a Prize. How do you know there is one? Would you like to know? I can tell you. Where do immortals come from? What are they here for? Would you like to know your mother, Methos? I am older than life, and I am part of the fabric of existence. I can show you everything. The meaning of Life. You think of yourself as a scholar. I will tell you everything you’ve ever wanted to know."

The point of the sword wavered. Again, there was silence in the room, but for the slight hum of the computer.

"You could do that?"

"He wants to die, Methos. That part was no deception. Be his friend. Behead him in a fair fight; give him the peace he craves, and I will tell you everything."

Her human shifted his weight. "Once the Champion is dead, what binds you to keep your word? I think you tell me first."

"Stupid fool!" it roared. Scully cringed, and lay her ears flat. "You have no comprehension of where you are! Do you think we toy with pebbles here? This is a contract with chaos! You do know the rules; they are in every story your kind has told around eons of campfires. And I know your pathetic attempt at deception. I am omniscient. I know every sacrifice you’ve made to survival – every betrayal; every abandonment. I know your plans and fears. Don’t think to deceive me!"

Her human lowered the sword. The demon’s shouting did not seem to have frightened him.

"Keep it down. My neighbors work, you know, omniscient one."

The demon-man stood, and leaned toward her human. Was he going to hurt him, now?

"Your neighbors are dead. I just killed them. Play false with me again, and more will die."

"No," Big Nose said, his eyes wide.

"Oh yes. What is your answer?"

"Get thee behind me," he whispered.

Destruction laughed. It was a horrible sound. Scully lay her ears back flat and cringed again, until it stopped.

"Do you think to invoke a god? How amusing, coming from you. I am the only god, here. It is I who have the power of death. And of life. You may still change your mind."

The red mist rose, this time, from the floor. Scully pulled back to make sure none of it touched her. To her immense relief, the man-demon was gone, and Big Nose stood alone, staring at the bed.

Alone? Then who was it who was weighing down the bed above her?

* * *

Big Nose moved to the bed. The sword fell from his hand with a heavy thud. Scully came bounding out, and leaped upon the top of the bed.

A woman lay on the bed. Another intruder? How did she get there? Scully meowed her distress and her relief. Her human watched her, as she began a careful approach up the covers toward the woman's lap, still mewing.

"Adam?" The woman spoke. Scully crouched beside her, and suffered the stranger to absently fondle her ears with one hand.

"Where am I? Where are we? What . . . what's happened?" She held out her hand toward Scully's human, who stood very still before her, his gaze moving from Scully to the woman.

"Alexa," he croaked. Scully had never heard his voice sound so odd.

The woman sat up straighter and peeled one layer of blankets away before pausing, looking at the man. Big Nose looked at Scully. She mewed her What's-going-on cry, but stayed beside the woman. Nothing about her was frightening.

"Adam, I feel … I feel fine! What’s happened? Was there some kind of miracle?"

"Miracle …" he choked, and returned his gaze from Scully to the woman. He dropped to his knees beside the bed. He threw his arms around her waist, and buried his face in the covers still draped on her lap. He made strange, muffled sounds.

Scully felt very agitated. He wasn’t paying attention to her, and he was very distressed, again. At least this time his head was within easy reach. She paced around him and the woman, and tried to lick the salty water from his face. He reached for her, and batted her away.

"Scully …"

He raised his head, and looked at the woman who had her hands draped on his shoulders.

"Alexa … Alexa … it’s so good to see you!" He moved so swiftly to sit beside the woman on the bed, and grasp her to him, that Scully had to leap away to avoid being sat on. Hey!

"Good to see me? Have you been gone? How did I get here?"

They separated, slightly.

"What … do you remember?"

"I was in the hospital in Zurich." She looked around. "Are we still in Zurich? You were there. You had come back from … from something you had to do in France. And then I don’t remember anything."

"Oh, God. Alexa …" Big Nose ran his hands over her face and hair. "This is … This isn’t …." He stood abruptly, releasing her. He strode away, only stopped by the wall, which he faced, raising one tight fist to his face.

Both Scully and the woman cried at him. "Adam?" The woman unfurled the remaining blankets and stood just behind him. The gown she wore draped teasingly at Scully as she moved, but she was gone from the bed too swiftly for Scully to bat at it.

The woman placed a hesitant hand on his tense back. He turned slowly, and returned his own hand to the side of her face. "Please tell me what’s wrong," she said.

He placed his arms around her, and looked down into her face. She was much smaller, standing, than he was, Scully saw.

"Alexa, this … is not real. It’s a dream."

She pulled back from him.

"What?"

"I mean it. You’re still sick, and this is a dream."

"Adam," her voice trembled. "Don’t joke like this."

"It’s no joke. There is no miracle - at least, not yet. I know it seems real, but dreams always seem real while you’re having them, don’t they?" He said the last with one hand out, toward her, because she had pulled entirely away from him. Scully stayed silent, watching.

"You’re telling me that I’m still dying, and this is some kind of wish-fulfillment dream."

Big Nose had water on his face, again. "Yes."

The woman slumped. Scully had never had cause to develop any sensitivity to any human’s feelings but her own human’s, but she now sensed a great grief from the woman. Big Nose was drawn the two steps to her side, and wrapped his arms around her slight frame, again.

"Alexa, trust me. I love you. I need you … I need you to tell me something. Can you do that? For me?"

The woman moved her head against his chest.

"If you could …" He made a choked sound. "If you could live, but someone else had to die, would you choose to live?"

She pulled back and looked at him. She sniffled.

"You mean like a transplant or something?"

Big Nose closed his eyes. "Yes. Something like that."

"Someone … innocent? Who hadn’t done anything wrong would just … lose their life, like I am?"

He nodded.

She separated from him, again, and walked to the bed. Scully looked up at her. Maybe if she rejected him often enough, he’d send her away and Scully would have him to herself again.

Abruptly, the woman collapsed on the bed, making those muffled sobbing sounds. Scully had to leap out of the way, again. She looked urgently to Big Nose, but he didn’t come to comfort Scully. He came to the woman.

"It’s not fair!" the woman cried. "You can’t ask me a question like that! You can’t! I want to live. Anyone would want to live. Don’t make me say I would hurt someone. It’s not fair!"

"Alexa, Alexa, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, my love." He gathered her in his arms, and continued to pet her and cover her with kisses. "You’re right. It’s not a fair question. I’m sorry. I wanted you to … It’s my choice; I can’t make it yours. I’m so sorry. I love you so much."

They were both sobbing, now. Puzzled, Scully licked her paw. It had been dusty under the bed.

"What happens now? Can the dream last a little longer?"

Big Nose hugged the woman fiercely. "No." He made that choking sound, again. "It has to end, now. God, I love you. Someday … I hope … Ahriman! That is your name, isn’t it? Ahriman! My answer is no, damn you!"

Somehow Scully knew that word. She knew it for the summons it was. Was he crazy? She zipped beneath the bed, again.

She felt the demon-thing return as above her she heard her human say, "I love you Alexa. I will always love you." Then, the load on the bed was lighter, and Evil was back.

"So now she is dead again, and this time, by your own doing. But, after all, what’s another death to you? You disappoint me, Methos." The voice she heard was the voice of the first apparition.

Her human had not stopped his sobbing sounds. He slid off the bed to slump beside it, on the floor. He did not respond for a long time. Scully didn’t know what the demon was doing. One of her human’s hands was draped on the floor by the bed. Very cautiously, she stretched her neck out, and began to wash it.

"That’s … the bloody … idea," he said, between sobs. Scully saw him raise his head. She couldn’t see the demon from her angle; he blocked her view. "That’s three. Three temptations. I’ve said no. Now get out. I hope when MacLeod defeats you, demon - I hope it really hurts."

"What makes you think I only have three?"

Big Nose stopped sobbing. Scully crawled to where she could see the demon. Yes, It wore the form it had worn when it brought the glove.

"Eons of bloody campfires," said Big Nose.

"Well, they got it wrong. I have another offer. Would you like to hear it?"

"No. Get out."

"The past, Methos. Your past. It never happened. You made different choices, and you never rode with Kronos."

Big Nose sucked in a breath.

"Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t make a change to the past like that, without radically altering the present. The present you want to rule."

The demon’s voice remained soft.

"Wrong. I can do anything. What do you know of Time? What they tell you in the moviehouses? The present is the only time which is real. The same present can be arrived at by an infinite combination of past timelines. I’ll just choose a different one."

Silence, again.

"No one need ever know. Even Cassandra will remain exactly as she is; just shaped by a different past. One which didn’t include you. No one would ever know what you did, because it never happened."

"Do I … keep my memory of it … or not?"

"As you choose. Methos, beheading another immortal is entirely right and natural. It is what you were born to do. I will be with you, and make you invincible. He wants you to do it. And then, whatever happens, you will start with a clean slate - guilty of nothing worse than unpaid library fines."

Big Nose stood, slowly. Scully was suddenly terrified for her human. The fight seemed to be gone from him. Would the demon take him away from her?

"Yes!" the demon crowed.

She could stand it no longer. She leaped out from under the bed, arched her back, and sounded her siren challenge. Big Nose, to her intense dismay, shoved her back under the bed with his foot. She stayed there, trembling with fury and grief.

Big Nose picked up his sword. He stared at it for a very long time. Then he looked up.

"If you can do anything, can you . . . go fuck yourself?"

"What?! This is your answer? Think carefully."

Her human's voice sounded very conversational. "My answer is no. And, go fuck yourself!"

The demon did not respond, but Scully felt its fury building. The man-thing with glowing eyes faded in a red mist which seemed to be unaffected by the sudden wind blowing through the room. Papers and clothes whirled in a mad dance. Big Nose braced his back to the wall. Scully dug her claws into the carpet.

A voice with no owner spoke.

"I'm giving you another chance! He hates you, you know, and Dawson will never trust you, again. This nobility will gain you nothing! You'll never be able to tell anyone about me."

"You have my answer!" Big Nose yelled.

The wind blew harder, yet. It was all Scully could do to cling to the carpet. The suitcase slid into her, and then slid away. The bedspread lifted and took flight. Books flew from shelves, and toiletries were blown from the dresser. Scully squeezed her eyes shut. It was to be the End of Everything, after all.

The wind stopped, and books and bottles thudded to the floor.

"Wow," she heard him say. She didn’t open her eyes until she heard him speak, very close to her. He was peering under the bed. "Scully, are you all right?"

She wanted to run to him, but she couldn't get her claws out of the carpet. She squeaked, piteously. He reached in and freed her, then he carried her in the crook of his arm as they surveyed the damage. The rising sun made the curtains glow, and cast a friendly light on the remains of the flat. The place certainly looked changed, but change is what you get for talking to demons, she reflected.

"I don't dare help him, Scully. He'll have to do this without me. I was doing okay until ..."

She was infinitely content to snuggle in his arms. The demon was gone, and she had her human back!

But she squirmed away from him as he passed the windswept dresser top, and leaped to it. There was that other cat, all right. Scully swatted at it, and hit only smooth glass. As she suspected. She turned and peed on it.

Behind her, Big Nose was packing the suitcase, again. He still smelled like fear, even though the demon was gone, and the other cat was only an illusion.

What could he be afraid of, now?

* * *

Scully loved it in Bora Bora. It was warm, and there was plenty of beer. She had as much of her human’s attention as she wanted, and an abundance of things to chase and climb. All was well.

At least, in her world.

The End.


End file.
